


A Goblet, a Pipe, and a Bag of Pearls: Part One

by Bofur1



Series: BofurGlóinNori [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Brawling, Gen, Some angst, Thieving, but don't worry, don't we all love plot bunnies, nori is cruel to bofur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people may not have noticed that in the movie (when they aren't with their siblings) Bofur, Glóin, and Nori draw together. The thing is, I noticed. This is the story of how they met. It's definitely <em>not<em> what one would expect.</em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curing Boredom

“Let’s have a story, Bofur!”

“Yes, please!”

Bofur looked up from his bowl of stew to see Fíli and Kíli standing above him, grinning eagerly. Bofur tried to seem nonchalant, but he was actually quite pleased that the Durin heirs would come to him.

“What would the two o’ ye like to hear?” Bofur asked, a trail of smoke rolling from his lips as he spoke in his pleasant drawl.

Kíli shrugged. “Anything, really. Fee and I are bored, and we just thought you might have a tale or two.”

Bofur felt pride swell in his chest, but he soon deflated. As the Princes waited, he couldn’t for the life of him think of a story to tell. “Mm, well, laddies, I don’t know if I can fish one out o’ m’ mem’ry at the present,” he admitted sadly, and cringed at their crestfallen expressions.

Glóin, who had overheard the conversation, felt bad for Bofur and quickly searched his mind for a story. His eyes rested on the pipe sticking from Bofur’s mouth.

“Oi, Bof!” he called. “Tell them the story of how you appropriated your pipe!”

Bofur looked at him in surprise, and then all at once he was doubled over, laughing hysterically. He spilled his stew all over himself and didn’t even seem to notice. Fíli and Kíli leapt away from him, shouting for Bifur. “I think Bofur’s drunk!” Kíli added unnecessarily.

Bifur scrambled to his cousin’s aid, slapping him on the back, which didn’t help much. At last his laughter subsided, and Bofur wiped his eyes.

“Oh, Lord Mahal...that’s a story to tell.” He looked up and saw Bifur, Fíli, and Kíli looking at him with concern. “Don’t ye worry. I’m perfectly sane,” he assured them, and chuckled again. Bifur put an arm around Bofur’s shoulders. “I’m fine, Bifur,” Bofur grinned. “Now, do ye young fellas still want that story?”

When the boys hesitantly responded in affirmative, Bofur nodded slowly. “Alright, then. Mind ye, this was when I was a wee young’un, and I was right badly foolish.” His smile waned a bit, and became somewhat sad. “After m’ Ama fell ill, it was up to me—bein’ the eldest—to see that Bombur had his meals and clothes and such.”

“You sure succeeded with the food,” Kíli blurted, jabbing a thumb at the overweight cook.

“Kíli!” Fíli rebuked him, giving his brother a sharp elbow.

Bofur held up a finger. “But back then I was strugglin’. This was before our dear ol’ Bifur came along to take care of us,” he explained, smiling softly at his cousin who sat beside him. “See—”

“What was before Bifur?” Nori asked, having just walked up.

Bofur chuckled. “I’m just tellin’ these two about how I...what was the word ye used, Glóin?”

“Appropriated,” the other Dwarf announced.

“Aye, that was it. I’m tellin’ them how I ‘appropriated’ m’ pipe here,” Bofur explained cheerfully.

Nori’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, yes...that was how you met me!” He plopped down next to Bifur and leaned in. “Well, go on, get telling!” he urged. “I want to hear this too.”

Bofur’s grin grew wider. He leaned back, added more weed to his soon-to-be-famous pipe, and made a flame.


	2. Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur and Nori meet in the market of Dale.

Nori, son of Fori, somersaulted along the cobblestones, clinging to his latest pilfered item.

Landing with agile grace back on his feet, Nori wove a path between the marketers and customers of Dale, shoving people out the way and trampling feet. He ignored the irritated outbursts of the people around him, for he was, although in the middle of a chase, deep in thought.

 _Dori will be angry. But, still, I suppose it’s worth it_. He sighed as he examined his reward: a plain wooden pipe. That was all he’d gotten before someone had seen. _Oh, well...it’ll fetch a few pennies_.

He cast a glance over his shoulder and his disappointment twisted into fear. A young lieutenant guard was tailing him, and fast. Nori hastened his pace, upsetting baskets and tables. Angry shouts and curses followed in his wake.

All at once Nori found himself on the ground, having collided with another Dwarf lad. He gave a gasp, just barely saving the pipe from bouncing away. There was no sense in losing the only thing he’d gotten!

“Watch where you’re going!” Nori snarled. Then his eyes widened in surprise. His assailant also had something of value in his hands, a small sack of pearls, and by the crazed gleam in the other Dwarf’s eyes, he’d stolen it.

“Yer a thief too?” the boy panted.

“Well, yeh,” Nori answered, casting another quick glance over his shoulder. The guard was almost upon him!

“I’m Bofur,” the other thief introduced himself hastily. “Yer being chased?”

“I’m Nori, and yeh, I’m being chased.”

“Me too. Trade!” Bofur cried, seizing the pipe and pressing the sack of pearls into Nori’s hands. He then leapt to his feet and dashed back the way he’d come. Nori could barely pocket the pearls before the lieutenant grabbed the back of his collar.

“Alright, Nori, where is it?!” he demanded. Nori almost found it amusing that he and the guard were on a name-basis. Nori stole so often that it wasn’t very surprising.

Nori shrugged. “Well, sorry, I don’t have it.”

“Tell me the truth!” the guard barked furiously, lifting Nori from the ground with only one arm and shaking him.

Nori was sure he was going to get whiplash, but he swallowed his cry of pain, and instead forced a somewhat pained grin. “As I said, Dwalin, I don’t have it.” He held out his empty hands, twisted, and landed a boot to Dwalin’s face. He hit the ground running, turned a bend, and vanished.

By the time Dwalin’s vision cleared, the thief was long gone. He fingered his nose and glared and ground his teeth. He could taste blood, but worse in his mouth was the tang of failure. The captain of the guard, his father Fundin, would not be happy.

Nori, meanwhile, stopped to catch his breath. He pulled the sack of pearls from his pocket and examined them.

“Hmm,” he murmured. After a moment, he broke into a grin. “Well, I got the better part of the deal, anyway. His loss.”

“Not really,” Bofur declared, materializing out of nowhere. He held out his hand impatiently, motioning to the pearls. “I’ll be wantin’ those back, if ye please.”

Nori clutched them possessively. “I _don’t_ please, actually. You gave these to me, and I’m keeping them.”

Bofur’s amber brown eyes narrowed, and suddenly he lunged, trying to grab them from him. Nori was taller, and held them high above the other thief’s head. He snickered as Bofur dove for them, to no avail. However, he didn’t expect to be tackled around the waist and hit the wall of the alley.

Stars danced in front of Nori’s eyes, but he could still see Bofur scooping up the sack.

“Thank ye for yer coop’ration,” Bofur said curtly. He turned to leave, but Nori wasn’t going to give up that easily. He seized Bofur by the collar and, lifting him off the ground, flipped him over his shoulder and threw him. Bofur hit the ground face-first, grunting in pain. In a moment of spite, Nori marched over Bofur’s back, eliciting a moan, as he strode to where the pearls lay.

Nori pocketed the sack once more. He sneered, doing an exaggerated imitation of Bofur’s accent. “Yeh need ta learn, _lad_ , ye can’t give somethin’ ta another thief an’ expect ta get it back.”

Bofur staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his lips. “Ye sound like a retard,” he growled.

“No, actually,” Nori laughed. “It reminds me more of you.” He then made the same mistake Bofur had minutes before: he turned his back.

Bofur sprang forward and landed on Nori’s back, bringing them both heavily to the ground. He dug each bony knee into Nori’s ribs, and then scrabbled to reach his trousers pocket and their contents.

The two fought for a long while, kicking, scratching, hitting. Each had their moments of triumph and failure, and soon their blood was staining the dirt of the alley. Nori felt his father Fori’s vicious fighting blood coursing through his veins as he landed a swift, cracking blow right under the chest cavity. Bofur hit the ground instantly, shocked into a stupor.

Nori waited for him to rise, but he didn’t. Unease began to gnaw at Nori’s conscience, until Bofur twitched a bit, and shuddered.

“What did I say before?” Nori snapped. “You can’t give something to another thief and expect to get it back.”

“Ye don’t...understand...” Bofur gasped, and moaned at the agony of speaking, of breathing. “I need to feed m’ brother...he’ll starve...and m’ Ama’s real sick...I need to sell those pearls...I can’t let m’ family die...!”

Nori felt pity stir, but he shoved it away. “You’re lying,” he snapped.

Bofur’s eyes lifted, and Nori could clearly see that they were shiny with tears. “Please...” Bofur implored. “I beg ye...”

“You can’t beg me,” Nori growled, “because I’m gone.” And suddenly he was. Bofur felt despair and anguish hit, and he collapsed back to the ground, sobbing until he lost consciousness.


	3. Past Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori returns home; he and Dori have a talk.

Nori entered the window of his home, weighing the bag of pearls in his palm. Although he landed quietly, he was heard.

“Nori,” the elder son of Fori said shortly. Who else would come through the window so late at night?

“Nice to see you too, Dori,” Nori said gruffly. Dori was slightly surprised as his brother brushed past him. Nori was not excited and grinning as he usually was when he’d had a day of adventure. He seemed only weary and irritable.

“What happened?” Dori asked in concern, scuttling after Nori up the stairs to Nori’s bedroom.

“It’s not your business!” Nori barked, throwing the sack onto his dresser. He kicked off his blood-spattered boots and began to strip off his shirt.

Dori tried to catch his brother’s gaze, but Nori avoided him, constantly moving so as not to show his face. “Listen,” Dori said impatiently. “I’ve seen you with at least eleven black eyes since you turned forty-two. Look at me.”

Nori whirled. “Is this what you wanted to see?” he demanded. Dori was taken aback by the long nail-marks raked across his brother’s face, from his left temple to the right side of his jaw. Both eyes were rimmed in black-blue, making him look somewhat like a raccoon. Blood seeped from the corner of Nori’s mouth and trickled down his chin onto the floor.

“Who did this to you?” Dori gasped.

“Another thief,” Nori grumbled. He wouldn’t meet his older brother’s gaze. “He helped me get away with a pipe by trading with me for that.” He motioned with his chin to the bag. “Then he wanted it back...and I beat him. _Badly_.”

Dori swallowed. “Where’d you leave him?” he asked nervously.

“In an alley.” Nori paused. “He said he wanted to feed his brother,” he muttered, more to himself than Dori. “And care for his Ama.”

Dori groaned, sinking onto Nori’s bed. “Why couldn’t you look past yourself and just give it to him just this once?”

“Because if I did that,” Nori said through clenched teeth, “he’d think we were chums, and then I’d have to do it all the time. It would— _Bofur_ would—ruin me!”

“Bofur? You beat him up, all the while knowing his name? Why do you live with yourself?!” Dori cried in dismay.

“Why do you leave the window unlocked so I can slip in each night?” Nori shot back. Dori was flustered; he hadn’t expected that question.

“I...I just...I just _do_ ,” he stammered.

“Exactly,” Nori declared, nodding vigorously. “That’s how I live with myself. I just do.” He pointed to the door. “Now get out so I can sleep.”

All at once a young Dwarfling appeared in the doorway, dragging a baby blanket. Nori’s expression changed instantly.

“Ori!” he exclaimed in delight. “C’mere, my lad!”

“No’i!” the toddler squealed gleefully, and before Dori could stop him he ran into Nori’s mucky, bloodstained arms.

Nori chuckled gently, a completely different Dwarf. “And up we go!” he cried, swooping his little brother into the air, eliciting screams of laughter.

“Careful!” Dori yelped. “You’ll drop him!”

“Nah,” Nori disagreed. “I’ve hurt enough people today. By the way,” he growled in addition, as Ori buried his face in Nori’s neck, “did I mention that I kicked Dwalin in the face?”


	4. On Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injured and exhausted Bofur goes to some friends for help.

When Bofur awoke, he was so lightheaded that it took him many long moments to remember where he was. The alley, where that other thief—Mori?—had thrashed him. As he took a breath, Bofur felt a sharp, twisting pain in his chest.

He needed help, that was certain, and he knew to whom he should go. With the aid of the alley wall the young Dwarf stood, and began to stagger his way to the outskirts of town. By the time he found the residence he was looking for, the wispy dusk was darkening into night. Bofur sagged against the door and knocked with his remaining strength.

The door opened, and Bofur toppled to the ground, yapping in pain as he fell.

“By Mahal!” Neanélla, the wife of Gróin son of Farin, gave an alarmed cry. She whirled to see her younger son standing behind her, gaping at Bofur. “Glóin, don’t stand idle with your gawking mouth. Go fetch your brother!”

Glóin hurried to obey and soon came back dragging a sleepy looking Óin. However, when he saw Bofur groaning and writhing in the doorway, he started, and was instantly alert.

“Can you help me carry him, Ama? It doesn’t seem like he’s going to be getting up again for a bit.” Óin was being trained by a family friend in the medical practice and Bofur was, it seemed, his first true patient. Carefully they conveyed him to the couch in the living room.

“What happened to you?” Glóin asked Bofur, wide-eyed.

“I got in a fight,” Bofur muttered, and coughed weakly.

“Go on, Glóin,” Óin said harshly. “I need to focus and I can’t do that if you’re around pestering.”

Glóin stuck his tongue out at his bossy older brother. It was an unsatisfactory response, but as he stalked from the room Glóin promised himself to get the full story later.

But maybe he didn’t have to wait. As he closed the door, Glóin realized that he could still faintly hear the words spoken from inside. He pressed his ear against the wood and listened intently.

“Got in a fight, eh?” Óin said, giving Bofur a dubious and slightly curious look. “Why’s that?”

“I was in the market,” Bofur answered warily. “An’ a thief pinched somethin’ important from me.”

“What did he steal?”

“Yer one to talk about pestering,” Bofur grumbled.

“Don’t change the subject, Bofur. I’m your friend, and I’m concerned. What happened?”

“I told ye,” Bofur snapped, exasperated. “He pinched somethin’, and I wanted it back.”

“But what did he steal? You have told me many times that you have nothing of value besides your brother and Ama,” Óin pressed.

Bofur remained silent for a long while. “I...I found somethin’,” he said at last, cautiously. “And...I was goin’ to sell it to get me, Ama, and Bombur food.”

“You found...?” Óin connected the facts, and his eyes widened. “Bofur! You _filched_!”

“It _wasn’t_ filchin’!” Bofur cried indignantly. “It was...it was...”

“Filching!” Óin insisted. “How could you—?”

“Ye don’t know what it’s like, Óin! How it feels when ye come home from a long, hot day and yer Ama’s room is even hotter 'cause o' her fever; how it feels when yer baby brother wails because he got no supper and ye can do nothin’ about it; and how it feels...filchin’ from inn’cent, trusty folks who don’t take notice of ye.” Bofur could no longer meet Óin’s gaze, and he looked down at the fabric of the couch and said no more.

Outside the door, Glóin felt uneasiness begin to boil in his stomach. His Ama was healthy, and his brother had the food he needed, but he knew what filching was like. Noiselessly he stole away to his room, closing and locking the door securely.

Once Glóin knew it was safe, he strode to his bed and knelt down, retrieving a chest from underneath. It was his box of private things, which only he was allowed to touch. Not even his brother knew where the key was.

Glóin fished the key out of a crack in his headboard and opened the chest. Directly inside was his stolen prize. He picked it up, and examined it. A  golden goblet, set with diamonds and emeralds and engraved with the runes of Durin.

He’d...appropriated...the goblet only just this afternoon. Another Dwarf with wild three-peaked hair had inadvertently become part of  Glóin’s plan. The other Dwarf lad had distracted Dwalin, the lieutenant on duty, by snitching a small wooden pipe. Dwalin had recklessly rushed off, abandoning his post to chase the thief. Then, as casual as could be, Glóin had sauntered over, taken the cup, and disappeared again.

Now the sight of it almost sickened him. And yet, Glóin somewhat understood where Bofur was coming from. He needed provisions, but didn’t want to accept charity or beg. Therefore, he filched.

Glóin put the goblet back into the chest, locked it, and put it back on the shelf. After concealing the key again, Glóin went back out to see if he could whine his way back into the ‘medical room’.

After some excellent complaining, Glóin was giddy to find that he was allowed in to give Bofur company and Óin had to leave! Óin clearly found the situation unfair, but he conceded to his mother’s wishes.

The door closed behind them, and Glóin ran to Bofur, kneeling beside him.

“I wanted you to know, Bofur, that I’m on your side,” Glóin said earnestly.

“M’ side?” Bofur echoed, head cocked slightly in confusion. “What do ye mean?”

“I’m going to help you catch that thief and get your filched stuff back,” Glóin explained in a hushed, excited whisper. Bofur’s eyes widened in surprise, and Glóin pointed out, “Well, you obviously can’t take him on alone.”


	5. Scenarios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori goes out around midnight; it so happens that Bofur is out too.

Nori woke while the sky was still dusky, around midnight. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep any longer with that bag sitting on his dresser. Therefore, he slipped to the floor, silently, and dressed. Taking the sack with him, he crept downstairs to the kitchen, opened the window, and disappeared into the night.

Trudging along the dusty outskirts road, Nori took an assessment of the day. He’d gotten away with something petty, and tiny. Then he’d been given something better. He still had it. Why, then, did he feel so horrible?

Perhaps it was the expression on the lad’s face, just before Nori had left. There was anger, of course, but also... grief. Distress. Suffering.

 _Oh, you’re getting soft, Nori_ , the thief tried to convince himself. Yet, he had to wonder: why was he so callous? He’d always taken thieving as a pastime. It could give his brothers a few more pennies if they needed it, but Nori wasn’t doing it for that. He did it as a way of proving his freedom—didn’t he? Or was that simply what he’d told himself all these years?

Why hadn’t he just given up the pearls? Bofur had obviously worked hard to lift them, and then Nori had just obliterated all his effort. That was cruel. After all, weren’t all thieves sort of like brothers, at least in their practice? They all did it for some reason: fun, necessity, spite, drunkenness.

Nori looked down at the object in his hand. It was heavy; the sign of a good burglary. Despite himself, Nori began to wonder what might have happened if he’d just let the lad keep them.

Bofur would have sold them, likely for a good price. If he was a good marketer, he might have gone home with bread, and perhaps some cheese, and maybe—just _maybe_ —a small vile of medicine for his mother.

His little brother would run to him, and Bofur would scoop him up, just as he himself had with Ori. There would be joy at his return, and Bofur wouldn’t want to spoil it by explaining how he’d really gotten this new purveyance. “Oh, I just worked some o’ m’ magic ’round the market,” he’d probably say lightly, with that strange drawl of his. He’d set his brother down, and go in to his Ama and talk to her gently, wiping the fevered sweat from her face. He’d tell her about the medicine, and then—

 _What in Mahal’s name am I doing?_ Nori shook his head violently, trying to get the image out of his mind. _I_ must _be getting soft. As if I know, or_ want _to know, what that lad’s miserable life is like. I don’t, so best get on_.

Hastening his pace, Nori found what he was looking for. A deformed, twisted aspen tree stood nearby. Kneeling beside it, Nori found the abandoned rabbit hole he occasionally used for storing things. He shoved the pearls into the hole and packed the opening tightly with dirt, nodding with satisfaction at his buried treasure.

Suddenly, he heard a small noise behind him. He stood and turned quickly, but there was nothing there. Nori squinted into the darkness, then bit his lower lip and mumbled uneasily, “Spooks.”

He then ran his way home.

Bofur emerged as soon as Nori was gone. Wide-eyed, he sank to the ground and took a few breaths.

He’d finally convinced Óin that despite his injuries he needed to go home to his brother and Ama, who were sure to be concerned about him. Then, who should he come upon in the road? Even in the dark, he’d recognized the other thief.

“What a coinc’dence, ain’t it?” Bofur muttered to himself. He stood and approached the tree, looking it up and down suspiciously. He wasn’t exactly certain what Mori had been doing, but he swore that he and Glóin were going to bring whatever it was to light.

“Aye, Mori,” Bofur said softly to the absent thief, fingering the wooden pipe still in his trousers pocket. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.”


	6. Candy Sticks and False Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glóin waits in the town square for Bofur and find himself irritated by someone unexpected.

Glóin found himself exhausted when he rose the next morning. All night golden goblets and pearls had danced about in his unconscious mind. Still, he perked up a bit when Neanélla announced that she was taking Óin out to purchase new shoes, and that she was leaving him in charge of the house.

“You behave, young man,” his mother ordered sternly, and Glóin nodded vigorously.

“Yes, Ama, thank you, goodbye, see you later, have a nice time!” With that he slammed the door behind them and drew a breath. He had work to do.

Soon he was prepared to meet Bofur. He’d made the other Dwarf promise to wait for him this morning in the square. Cramming a biscuit into his mouth, Glóin raced out the door and down the path to town.

By the time he reached their meeting place, the market was already full of commotion. _The row is horrendous_ , Glóin thought, wrinkling his nose disgustedly. He wasn’t often in such busy places, and the bustle was quite irritating.

He wriggled his way through the crowd and found a place to wait. As he sat looking around with repugnance at all these much-too-cheery people, a boy approached him.

“’Ullo,” the Dwarf lad said cheerfully. Glóin’s scowl deepened. He wasn’t particularly fond of small children, either. And yet, this one didn’t seem to notice his annoyance. In one chubby hand he grasped three candy sticks. He held one out to Glóin, who eyed it distrustfully.

 “I don’t trust Man-food,” he growled. The child didn’t seem to understand, or else he didn’t care. He continued to hold it toward him. At last with an exasperated sigh, Glóin snatched the candy stick away from him. The boy didn’t move, and Glóin knew what he wanted. Grumbling, he broke off a part of it with his teeth and began to chew.

The candy was sticky and tasted like the child’s grubby hands. Still, Glóin knew that if he didn’t eat it, the kid would never go away. Therefore he forced himself to choke it down and managed a very phony grin. The lad beamed at him, but Glóin just mumbled something in an undertone.

“Ori!” a voice cried. An older Dwarf scuttled over and scooped up the little one. “I told you not to run off,” he scolded him. Turning to Glóin he said in an apologetic tone, “I’m sorry, sir, my brother is small. He doesn’t know any better.”

“Yeah,” Glóin muttered, spitting the bits of candy into the grass. Thankfully Ori didn’t seem to notice, and instead smiled sweetly at his brother.

Dori gave a small sigh. “I’d best send you off with our brother. He hasn’t anything better to do, and it’d be best he not spend all his time in the tavern, right?” Ori nodded vigorously, and Glóin perked up.

“You have another brother?” he asked suspiciously.

Dori nodded. “Yes. By the way, I’m Dori, son of Fori, at your service.”

“Glóin, son of Gróin,” Glóin replied shortly, the lacking “at your service” obvious. “What’s your other brother’s name?”

Dori’s brow furrowed. “His name is Nori. Why do you ask?”

Glóin’s shoulders visibly sagged, and he murmured in a disappointed tone, “Oh. Well, you wouldn’t happen to have heard of someone named ‘Mori’, have you?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Are you waiting for him?”

“Uh...yes, I am,” Glóin lied. “He’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance of mine.”

Dori blinked in confusion, but nodded hesitantly. “Alright. I’m sorry to say, I don’t know anyone named Mori.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered  Glóin. “Thanks. Well, uh, I live on the outskirts of town. It's the only house out there. If you hear anything, I’d appreciate it if you would let me know.”

As Dori nodded again and disappeared with his little brother, Glóin sank back down with a sigh. He’d have to ask Bofur to describe the thief in more detail...


	7. Company Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur is late to the meeting with Glóin. However, he pauses in his rush when Bombur woefully poses the question, "What's going to happen to you today?" As he struggles to answer, there is a knock at the door.

Bofur struggled into his too-small boots and clipped the frayed bits that remained of his belt around his waist. His solar plexus protested against the bending motions, but he had to hurry! He was already late for his meeting with Glóin.

He ran to the kitchen, trying in the back of his mind to keep his footfalls soft. It was rare that his Ama was sleeping these days, and he hoped she would rest for a while longer without discomfort.

As Bofur hastily prepared an easy breakfast, he heard a forlorn voice behind him ask: “You’re leaving again?” Bofur turned to see his younger brother, Bombur, standing in the doorway. Bombur’s expression was so sorrowful that Bofur abandoned his meal for a few moments.

Kneeling to look his brother in the eyes, Bofur held Bombur’s smaller hand in his. “Yer a big boy now, Bombur,” he told him gently. “Ye know how to take care of Ama while I’m gone.”

“It’s not that!” Bombur burst out. “You didn’t return until very late, and when you did...” He touched Bofur’s cheekbone, which was still slightly swollen and blue. “...you came back with this.” He then very carefully touched his chest, and Bofur flinched. “And this.” Bombur continued to point out his injuries, and at last he said, “What’s going to happen to you today?”

Bofur swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I’ll be fine,” he choked out, with no conviction. “Ye see to Ama and don’t worry about me.”

Bombur nodded mutely, and Bofur released his hand. Inconspicuously sniffing, Bofur stood and packed the rest of his breakfast. As he prepared to leave, there was a knock at the door.

“Bombur, get that, will ye, please?”

When Bombur opened the door, he gave a joyful cry. “Bifur!” Bofur’s head jerked up at that name. He rushed to the hall and saw his brother throwing his arms around the visitor’s waist.

Bifur laughed and protested in his deep voice, “Not so tight, lad!” Bombur loosened his grip to look up at their cousin. “You’re stronger than last I saw you, that’s certain,” Bifur observed, with a broad grin. When Bifur looked up, his eyes locked with Bofur’s. His smile vanished instantly.

“Bofur.” As if on cue Bombur released him and stepped aside. Bifur approached Bofur slowly, putting a hand on each of his shoulders. Bofur flushed; he could see Bifur’s eyes moving ever so slightly, taking in the bruises and cuts. At last Bifur asked in a low tone, “What happened to your face?”

“It don’t hurt,” Bofur mustered up. Bifur’s grip on him tightened.

“That wasn’t my question.” Bifur’s face was hard as stone, and Bofur knew there would be no avoiding him.

“I got in a scrap in the market,” Bofur admitted.

“With who?”

“Just a stranger—”

“Have you seen him around before?”

“Not afore yest'rday—”

“What did he look like?”

“By _Mahal_ , Bifur, I don’t want t’ talk about it!” Bofur complained. “And I need t’ go anyway, I’m already late.” Bifur didn’t move. “Listen,” Bofur sighed. “I know yer worried but, really, I’m fine, and I have t’ go.”

Bifur’s expression softened. He paused, and then drew Bofur close. Bofur clenched his teeth against the pain in his chest as he returned the embrace.

“Be careful, cousin,” Bifur breathed into Bofur’s ear, and released him. Bifur turned to Bombur as though nothing had happened. “What say you if I keep you company while brother’s gone, eh?”

Bombur leapt at Bifur, who chuckled softly and hoisted the lad onto his shoulder. Bifur looked at Bofur, and although his expression was calm, Bofur could see in his cousin’s eyes that he was still upset.

“I’ll go check in on your Ama now,” Bifur said quietly.

“Thank ye,” Bofur murmured. He watched Bifur and Bombur disappear into his mother’s room, and then, slinging his pack over his shoulder, he departed.


	8. Peculiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur and Glóin are in for an unpleasant surprise.

“Come on, Ori,” Nori sighed, carrying his little brother on his hip.

“Whe’ we goin’, No’i?” the lad asked, leaning against his shoulder and looking up at him.

“We’re going to get this list Dori gave us out of the way,” Nori explained, crossly waving around a parchment with his other hand. He’d been in a decent mood before Dori had pulled him out of the tavern. Watching Ori wasn’t that bad, but dragging a curious Dwarfling around while trying to hurry through a long list of boring, tiresome activities was the worst kind of torture.

Dori knew Nori’s disliking towards this sort of thing, but he had ignored his complaints and insisted he do his share of providing for the family.

“I do my part,” Nori had objected peevishly.

“Not nearly enough,” Dori answered firmly. “Now take Ori and move. I’ve my own doings to take care of when I get back to the house.”

Thus Nori was here in the marketplace, lugging his heavy little brother and wanting to rip Dori’s carefully written list to shreds. Nonetheless he had to play along with his elder brother, just to prove he could finish a job. That didn’t mean, however, that he had to enjoy it.

“Let me see...” Nori grumbled under his breath. “Four spools of thread. Of course, Dori, send _me_ to get your knitting things. Knitting isn’t even interesting.”

“I like watchin’ Dori knit,” Ori piped up.

“Sure you do, kid.”

“Really!” Ori protested. However, even his young eyes caught the irritated expression on his brother’s face and he didn’t push the subject.

As he shoved his way through the market, Nori found himself having a recurring sense of déjà vu. He was relieved that he had left his long hair down today; his three-peaked style would have been instantly recognized by anyone he’d pickpocketed.

He was also glad to see that Dwalin was not on duty. The lieutenant was a formidable opponent, and Nori liked a challenge, but today he wasn’t in the mood.

Nori was so lost in thought that he stumbled over a crate of oranges. With a yelp Nori crashed into his neighbor. The other Dwarf ended up flat on the cobblestones, with Nori and Ori atop him. Ori bounced back up almost immediately, but Nori had gotten the wind knocked out of him and took a moment to get his bearings.

At last he got himself halfway off his victim, saying hastily, “I’m sorry, mister—” Nori’s eyes grew huge. Nose to nose with him was Bofur. The lad seemed to recognize him as well, for he gave a cry of alarm. They stared into each other’s eyes for many long moments, trancelike, until someone shoved Nori out of the way.

“Watch it!” a different Dwarf barked, glaring at him. He helped Bofur to his feet. “You alright?”

Bofur nodded, but he obviously wasn’t alright. His face was as pale as a fistful of flour, and he was breathing unsteadily.

“Yer...” he gasped, gaping at Nori. “Yer...”

Glóin’s head cocked in confusion. “Did you hit your head, lad? You look ready to swoon.” He followed Bofur’s gaze and scowled again at Nori. “You ungainly louts never watch where you’re going!”

“ _Ungainly lout?!_ ” Nori sputtered, clenching his fists. He could feel his staying power deteriorating. Quickly.

Glóin saw Nori’s muscles tense, and his eyes narrowed. “If you want a fight, you’ve picked the wrong Dwarf. I could send you down before you knew what was happening.”

“Try it,” Nori challenged.

“No’i,” Ori pleaded, tugging his brother’s shirt. “Don’t get into a fight! Please...” Glóin recognized the lad, and his expression twisted into a smirk.

“Ah, so you’re Nori, eh?” he remarked slyly.

Nori’s heartbeat quickened. Had Bofur told this fellow about him? “How do you know my name?” he demanded.

“I met your older brother,” Glóin explained smugly. “He and I, well, we’re good friends now.” ‘Good friends’ was a far stretch for having just met that day, but Glóin wasn’t about to be picky.

Nori hesitated. If this was one of Dori’s friends, he would get in serious trouble with Dori if he beat him up. He tried not to show it, but he did care a little bit when Dori was angry. And to do it here, in the middle of the market, with Ori watching...it wasn’t worth it.

Bofur, however, lunged forward, taking Nori unawares. Ori gave a shriek and leapt back. Again Bofur and Nori landed on the pavement, this time Nori on the bottom with Bofur’s hands locked around his throat.

“What did ye do with ’em?” Bofur shouted, enraged. “Give me back m’ pearls!”

Nori could give no answer aside from, “G-g-ghh!”

A shopkeeper noticed the brawl and rushed to the scene, hauling Bofur away from Nori. “Young man!” he reprimanded him, and Bofur cursed as he shoved away the shopkeeper’s hand.

“He stole m’ pearls!” Bofur growled, pointing at Nori. “And I want ’em back!”

“Let him be, Bofur,” Glóin agreed with the merchant, when his disbelief had worn off.

Bofur stared at his friend. “But he’s th’ one, Glóin!” he cried, dismayed. “He’s th’ one from yest’rday!” Nori, rubbing his neck, swallowed uneasily. Bofur _had_ told this Glóin chap about their fight.

Glóin laughed. “No, he isn’t, Bofur, believe me. I’ll explain later.” He helped Nori up from the ground and said in a much nicer tone than he’d had with him before, “I’m sorry, my friend has confused you with someone else.”

Nori wasn’t about to tell him that Bofur was right. Therefore, with a pained smile he said, “Yeh, I kind of got that impression.” He turned to his brother, who was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Don’t worry, Ori, I’m fine. I’ve taken worse.”

Ori leapt into his arms, burying his head in Nori’s shoulder. Nori gave a nervous laugh. Even if Glóin was fooled, Bofur was still glaring at him suspiciously.

“Well, I’d best be off. My brother and I still have a lot to do. Good day!” He turned on his heel and sped off.

Glóin watched him leave, shaking his head. Then he turned to Bofur. “You must’ve hit your head harder than you or I thought!” he declared, frowning at him. “You’re delusional...Maybe Óin should check you when we get home.”

“I don’t need a checkup,” Bofur snapped. “That was th’ thief from yest’rday, I know it!”

Glóin gave a small sigh. “C’mon, Bofur. From what you’ve told me, that fellow didn’t look anything like Mori. And besides, the names were different, and why would a thief be carting around his little brother?”

Bofur struggled to find a good response, but at last his thin shoulders sagged. “I s’pose yer right, Glóin. Per’aps I did bonk meself a bit.”

Glóin gave a nod of approval. “Glad you’re seeing reason. Now, if you trust this Man-food market—which _I_ don’t, mind you—I’ll buy you something to eat to calm you down.”

Bofur shrugged dejectedly. “A’right,” he murmured.

Glóin took Bofur to a stand advertising sweet cakes. Bofur’s awe was evident on his face as he stared at the treats. Glóin felt confusion stir inside him as he watched Bofur exclaim over their beauty, even the ones that were not even what Glóin would believe to be nice.

Yet as he considered the peculiarity of it, Glóin abruptly remembered that his friend could never afford such things. _These aren’t even very nice,_ he thought to himself. _But to him they belong with rich men_. At once he felt a deep pity for Bofur. The lad didn’t even know there were such things as cakes better than these.

Therefore, Glóin chose one of the nicest of the bunch for him. He enjoyed seeing Bofur’s surprise and delight as he fished in his coat pocket. Perplexed, he searched the other pocket, and when his examination came up with nothing, he turned slowly to Bofur with wide eyes and gasped, “Where’s my wallet?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA-HA-HA! TO BE CONTINUED!


	9. A NOTE TO SUBSCRIBERS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A NOTE TO SUBSCIBERS

To Subscribers:

Thank you very much to all the subscribers to this story! You're probably wondering what happens, so I wanted to let you know that the story continues in a separate work. The title is pretty specific, so you'll all know what it is: A Goblet, a Pipe, and a Bag of Pearls: Part Two! :)

That's all. Thanks! :D

Sincerely,  
Bofur1


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